Homecoming
by Chaosia Guadimus
Summary: A little introduction to my other story. It helps show how Ripley came back to Charming . . . as well as her introduction to the new world of the Sons.
1. Chapter 1

_Okay, so the SOA story I'm writing might be a bit easier to understand if you read this two-shot first. I know, I know. I'm blonde and I can't help it. _

* * *

**Coming Home**

Jax Teller waited patiently beside his mother, trying not to shuffle his feet as they sat in the back corner booth of Josephine's Diner. He sighed, slumping onto the elbow he'd already propped on the table before. This was so weird . . . And it was about to get a lot weirder. When his mother had announced that his old friend was returning a few weeks prior he'd been so caught up in what was going on with Wendy and Tara's unexpected presence that he'd barely given the other girl's return any thought at all . . . until Gemma had all but drug him from his bed at the Club and tossed him into the shower.

Apparently, Ripley was coming home today . . . and Gemma Teller-Morrow, the Queen of SAMCRO was going to give her a welcome befitting a princess . . . after they met and had lunch. Jax shifted, looking around the diner to see if maybe Ripley had already popped in and he hadn't noticed her yet. He'd been to see her while she was at school in Berkley and then when she'd gone on to her graduate studies in Long Beach . . . She couldn't have changed that much. He glanced back at his mother, still not used to seeing her so damn giddy. Not that it really surprised him . . . considering who they were meeting.

She'd always loved Ripley's parents, hell so had his old man and Clay, but apparently they all had a soft spot for the girl. She was the first daughter of SAMCRO . . . seeing as Piney had Opie and his parents had him . . . and she was cherished even after her parents had passed away. But to see Gemma here, dressed in an almost conservative white sweater and skin tight jeans tucked into a pair of caramel colored riding boots, was like a blast from the past. She looked more like she had before she'd decided to take life by the horns . . . But then again almost dying and losing a husband and a son would do that to anyone.

"Aunt Gemma? Jackson?"

Jax looked up, perplexed by the soft lilting voice that had just called his full name to see that he'd been wrong. His old friend had changed a lot in her time away. Ripley's once dark golden waves were now lighter and hung around her face in huge ringlets and curls, her bangs swept over the left side of her forehead and barely grazing one of her odd colored eyes. Her once full face had thinned with age, giving her high cheekbones an almost perfect nose and full plump lips set within an almost porcelain cream heart shaped face. But her eyes are what got him . . . she had always had the oddest colored eyes-just like her mother-but Ripley's were rimmed with thick sooty lashes and the blue green color was so light it reminded him of glass reflecting off of the sea glass Tara had always loved . . . the blue and green blending and mixing and not at the same time.

She smiled at him, blushing as she stepped a bit closer, letting him see her clearly. She'd lost the baby fat that he'd always picked on her about and curved in all of the right places . . . gaining an almost hourglass figure. Her legs seemed to go on nearly forever in the lightwashed mini-flared jeans and the dazzling green snake skin heels peeking out. The jeans were cut like trousers and had this edge to them that somehow suited her more than it would have his mother or Tara . . . . While the white silk shell tank she was wearing seemed to grow this funky retro multi-colored Dynastic flora print, the pintucked bodice showing her trim waist while the ruffled and lacey hem managed to seem feminine. Her cropped tan and white seer sucker blazer was pressed to perfection with the lacey trim hanging from underneath the hem. That paired with the ¾ sleeves and her long chained golden locket made her seem like she'd stepped out of a magazine . . . . and right back into their lives here in Charming.

Jax blinked as his mother shot up, grabbing Ripley in a tight hug that barely let the younger woman breathe . . . but he could tell by the way she slowly put her arms around his Mom's shoulders and hugged her back that this was one of the many things she's missed . . . He stood, smiling at her with arms slightly open as she stepped away from his mother. Ripley blushed bashfully before stepping into him, resting her cheek over his heart as she hugged him back.

After a few moments, she pulled back, pushing her hair behind her ears and looking between them before scooting into the seat beside Jax. He leaned back, arm slung over the back of the booth as she smiled up at him. The tension was slowly starting to seep from her shoulders and back as he watched her literally mellow in front of them. After the waitress brought them their drinks, she turned to him.

"Hey Jax . . . How've you been?"

He shrugged, smiling down at her before glancing across to his Mom. She nodded, reaching out and taking Ripley's hand to fiddle with the ring on her ring finger.

"Not bad . . . but I'll admit I've been better. I'm a dad now."

Ripley's face broke into a million watt smile as she squeezed Gemma's hand, reminding him of just why he and Opie had always loved to be around her as kids. Ripley had always been a bit backwards . . . not really talking much until she got to know you or saw something she was excited about. But she was almost always happy or content with things. And she could always remind you to be happy with what you had . . . because you could not have anything.

"Really? That's great, Jax! Do you have a little boy or a girl? What did you name them? Please nothing gay like Spencer or Sebastian . . . right?"

Jax laughed as Gemma smiled, reaching out and scrunching Ripley to him. God he had missed her . . .

"His name is Abel . . . and if you want we can go see him down in the NICU after lunch."

Ripley's smile fell, her brows burrowed.

"NICU? Why what's wrong?"

* * *

Jax sighed, glancing to his mother and shifting uncomfortably . . . something Ripley didn't miss in the least. She was about to let it drop when Gemma spoke. Letting Jax stare at his glass of tea while she was filled in.

"Wendy ODed and caused Abel to be born at 27 weeks . . . that coupled with a gastro tear and the _family _curse . . . well, they didn't think he'd make it. Now . . . both are fixed and he's stable but they won't be able to bring him home for a few more weeks."

Ripley nodded, leaning into Jax and looking up at him. If she'd known she would've come back sooner . . . why hadn't they called?

"You know I would've come sooner if you called, right?"

Gemma patted her hand, offering her a smile that made Ripley's heart warm. God, she had missed that woman. Gemma Teller-Morrow had taken a big part in her life after her own mother had passed away . . . officially making her a second Mom. Something Ripley had never forgotten even in her time at Berkley and in Long Beach . . . was that if she needed anything Gemma was always there.

"We know baby. But you were moving and you're here _now_ . . . speaking of which, why don't we eat and we'll go see what all needs to be done in that house of yours."

Ripley nodded, patting Jax's chest as he brought the arm behind them down to hug her as their food hit the table. She knew there was more to this but she wouldn't push. They'd eat and go see Abel . . . then they could go to her house and maybe she could figure out what all had changed in her absence.

* * *

Gemma watched Ripley reach through the small openings in the NICU bassinette and run a knuckle softly over Abel's chubby cheeks. Ripley's sea glass eyes were watering, tears spilling ever-so-often as she watched the tiny boy breath and sleep, looking almost as lost as Jax did. She knew, from the way the girl acted as she touched Abel like he was made of glass, that she just couldn't fathom doing this to a child . . . especially your own.

"He's so tiny . . . Jesus, Gemma what was she thinking?"

After what seemed like an eternity she looked up, eyes locking with Gemma briefly before shooting to Jax and Tara as they talked on the other side of the glass observation window. Gemma felt her pride swell at the pure cynical glint and fire that settled in her god daughter's eyes before it disappeared and she looked back down to her grandson. It was nice to see she wasn't the only one with an issue there as well.

"So when did **_she_** come back?"

Gemma shrugged, reaching out and pulling Ripley into a one armed embrace as they watched Abel dream.

"No idea. She was here when I found Wendy . . . and I am not thrilled about the way Jax keeps sniffing around her."

Ripley nodded, glancing back over her shoulder again to look at the girl who had been a good friend to her once. Before she deserted all of them for whatever bullshit reason. She and Tara had been close, Gemma knew, always doing things together whenever one or the other wasn't with Jax. And while Ripley had never shown any romantic interest in her son, when Tara had started to act like a bitch . . . well, Gemma herself had dropped hints that maybe she wasn't cut out for everything that Club life entailed. But Ripley sure as fuck was.

She sighed, glancing back just in time to see Tara reach out and hug Jax, clinging to him almost desperately before pushing him away and practically shooting down the hall. Ripley's eyes narrowed almost simultaneously with Gemma's at the beaten down and weary look Jax took on before he stormed off towards the elevators. Ripley turned back to Abel, her glower softening as the boy yawned. But just barely.

"Stupid bitch. She really needs to leave him alone if she can't handle all of this . . . doesn't she think he has enough on his plate without her emotionally retarded ass in the mix?"

Gemma couldn't help it, she laughed and hugged Ripley tighter to her as the girl blushed. Oh this was new.

"My oh my. Where did this come from? You would've never said that a few years ago . . ."

Ripley shrugged, still blushing as she muttered.

"Yeah, well. I was the only female pathologist, Aunt Gemma. And the youngest. I learned to speak up or get stepped on. Besides, the guy I was seeing kind of liked that I would just pop off at random."

Gemma smiled, kissing her goddaughter's temple as she turned them and started them towards the door.

"C'mon sweetheart. Lets go get my crazy ass son and we'll go see about your house . . . you mind if we stop by the club to get Jax's bike?"

Ripley shook her head, wrapping her arm around Gemma's waist as they walked towards the elevators. Neither really caring about the odd looks they were receiving as they passed different patrons and professionals. This was why Ripley had always done so well with them. She knew how to operate in the world outside of SAMCRO . . . but she didn't let it _define_ her. Even now, as they waited for the elevator she didn't acknowledge another person but Gemma.

_Now if they could've only taught Tara that trick . . ._

* * *

Ripley pulled in behind Gemma's Cadillac, following her towards the side parking spots near the office like she had a million times as a teenager. But something seemed different about the place now. She just couldn't put her finger on it, even as she killed the engine to the Chevelle and crawled out, pushing her gold tinted aviators up and into her curls. The Club had always seemed larger than life to her . . . but now, it just seemed normal. She shrugged, closing the door and following Gemma towards the office as Jax veered off to grab his bike.

Gemma waited, tossing her arm over her shoulders as she came up beside her and Ripley wasn't too grown up to admit that it was more than nice to have Gemma back in her life in more than just phone calls and occasional visits. She looked up, smiling big at Gemma and giggling at her own reflection in the older woman's dark sunglasses. Gemma just shook her head, pulling her closer as she reached out and pushed the office door further open.

"You always were a goofball, Rip."

She looked up as they entered, seeing Clay Morrow behind the desk feet propped up and chewing on a cigar as three men-two she knew- sat around him. All laughing and joking. The wave of nostalgia that hit her was almost like a tsunami. How many times had she and her Mom come here with Gemma and found some of the Sons doing exactly this? How many times had her mother rolled her eyes because her father had been smoking right along beside Clay and Piney?

All heads turned to them and the laughter died, breaking her out of her thoughts as she suddenly felt a bit uncomfortable with all of their eyes settled on her. This was new . . . she'd never felt unwelcomed here but something about the way they were all looking at her made her doubt her sanity for coming back . . . until Piney hopped up and crossed to her. He stopped a few inches from touching her, his blue eyes looking down at her almost in awe.

"Ripley? Jesus is that you?"

She smiled, hating the blush that spread across her cheeks as she nodded and Gemma pulled her tighter against her. Gemma's voice carried in the small room as Bobby and Clay both stood, waiting to see what was happening.

"Yep. Found her at Josephine's . . . apparently she was going to wait until she started work to let us know she was back. Something about not causing any trouble . . ."

Piney snorted as Bobby came around the other side, not bothering to wait as he scooped her up against him into an almost bone-crushing hug as he laughed and picked at her.

"You BRAT! That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard! You're family. Of course you'll cause trouble! But its all good!"

Ripley laughed, hugging him back as he spun her around.

"Put me down, Bobby! I get it I should've called!"

He dropped her, still holding her close to him as he looked her over and held up a long gold curl.

"Damn. Our little grease monkey went and turned into a lady and we didn't even know it . . . I'm so proud."

Ripley rolled her eyes before sliding away and hugging Piney. The older biker just gathered her up and held her to him . . . not bothering to hide the tears lining his eyes as he pulled back and looked at her. Ripley laughed, reaching up to wipe his eyes before cupping his cheeks, careful of the oxygen tube.

"Don't cry, Piney. Its not like I was gone forever or anything . . ."

Piney shook his head, leaning down to press his forehead to hers.

"No baby girl . . . you just look so much like your Momma . . . God, its like seeing her with blonde hair . . ."

Ripley smiled, kissing his cheek as she looked up at him and told him in a very low voice.

"I know, Piney. I kind of freak myself out some days still . . . "

He straightened, patting her cheek before taking her by the shoulders and turning her to Clay. Who had been watching everything quietly . . . He opened his arms to her and she didn't need a written invitation to act on the impulse. She's always loved Clay Morrow. More than she had John or any of the other Original Nine . . . with the exception of Piney. And as he closed his arms around her, pulling her into a warm hug, she couldn't help but feel like she was finally at ease in Charming.

"Welcome home, Baby Girl. We missed you . . ."

She smiled, not caring about the tears leaking onto Clay's TM shirt. She was home. And that was all that mattered.

* * *

Gemma watched Tig as he observed the reunion, knowing he was about as clueless as the others would be. Really, with the exception of Jax and Opie, the only ones who knew Ripley before were in this office . . . but she hoped that that wouldn't keep her boys from welcoming what was essentially her daughter back into her home.

She stepped over, coming to stand beside the Sgt At Arms as his eyes flicked over the girl Clay was holding. And, if she knew her husband and her goddaughter, the whispered words were probably tinged with tears and sniffles . . . She leaned over, answering the nudge of Tig's shoulder with a raised brow. His light blue eyes bore into hers before cutting back to the girl as Clay picked her up and spun her the same way Bobby had, only getting laughs and squeals instead of the goodhearted whining. When he sat her back on her heels, he tossed his arm over her shoulders and pushed her out and into the main garage, shouting for the others to come and meet the girl.

"Who is that, Gemma?"

Gemma smirked, walking to the door and leaning against the frame as Tig came to stand beside her, both watching Clay and the others with Ripley as he introduced her to Juice and the Prospect.

"She's family, Tig. Daughter of a Son. One of the Original Nine, as a matter of fact . . . she moved away for college and graduate school. Now she's back."

Tig nodded, eyes raking over the girl as Juice smiled and talked to her while the Prospect just blushed. Gemma knew that look and was prepared for the next question to pass his lips.

"She gonna hurt us?"

Gemma shook her head, reaching out and patting Tig's cheek. He turned back, looking at her before cutting his eyes to Ripley as she laughed when Opie saw her. The girl reached up, snagging his beanie and, to the amazement of the others, put it right on her own head. Gemma smiled as her voice carried to them.

"Seriously, Ope. It looks so much better on me . . . you just look like a serial killer or something . . ."

The roar of laughter from the oldest three was nothing compared to the true laugh form Opie as he tried to reclaim his hat . . . only to have Ripley toss it to Jax at the last second. And thus the game was on. Even Clay and Bobby got into the keep-a-way game as Opie tried to dash between them, all of them laughing until she finally caught it and motioned him down to eye level with her. When he stooped, the beanie went back to its place and she hugged him laughing and shaking her head as he rolled his eyes and adjusted it.

Gemma looked back at Tig, seeing the look flash across his face at Opie's laugh. They all knew he'd been different since his release . . . but Ripley just seemed to pull him right back out of his shell.

"She look like she's gonna hurt us, Baby?"

* * *

Tig shrugged, following Gemma as she made her way towards the girl. He knew her arrival would change things . . . he just didn't know how. But as he watched her slid easily under Gemma's outstretched arm, flushed and laughing from picking on Opie he couldn't fight the feeling that it was going to be big.

Clay motioned for the others to follow him back into the office, signaling for Opie to go with Jax and the girls while Juice and the Prospect were to follow him. As soon as the office door shut, all mirth drained from Clay's face. He turned to Juice.

"Go get Happy and Chibs. Tell 'em to meet us in Church. _**Now**_."

Juice nodded, dashing out as the Prospect followed. Bobby and Piney nodded, both going on and into the Clubhouse. When they were alone, Tig looked at Clay, waiting for the next order. After a few tense minutes, Clay spoke.

"I'm telling you this so you can stand behind me when I issue it to the others. That girl is family. Blood. None of us are going to fuck her over in anyway. She isn't a Croweater . . . and she doesn't do anything she doesn't want to without my order. If anybody is interested . . . she's an Old Lady or she's nothing. The memory of her Mom and Pops-and everything they did for this Club, for me and Gemma and Charming-demands nothing less. You got me?"

Tig nodded, amazed at the words leaving Clay's mouth. Family was always treated right. Always taken care of. But he'd just decreed that the girl pretty much be isolated unless one of them wanted to ink her. Jesus . . .

"Her old man . . . who was he?"

Clay looked up, smirking humorlessly at Tig before heading towards the Clubhouse. He stopped at the garage bay door, looking back over his shoulder.

"You really wanna know, Tig?"

Tig nodded, coming to stand just behind him.

"Yeah man . . . Gemma said he was one of the First Nine . . . but who was he?"

Clay smirked, pulling his cigar back to his lips as he lit it.

"Her old man was Ed Guadimus."

Tig felt his heart jump in his chest. Ed Guadimus . . . Jesus Tap dancing Christ. Her Old Man was the fucking First Sgt. at Arms. And she'd come home to Charming . . . 

_Dear God . . ._

_

* * *

I have no clue who the original Sgt at Arms was so I'm taking a liberty with it. This is going to be pretty much AU after the first half of the second season anyway . . . but if anyone does know please tell me. I am mighty curious . . .  
_


	2. Chapter 2

_Part two. This might fill in some blanks from Chaprter one in Hit me With your best shot . . . or maybe not. either way it was weird to write._

_

* * *

_

**Helping Out**

Ripley watched Jax pace as she drew Opie's blood, shaking her head ever so often as he would get too close to what the chair there in the lab. She'd received the call from Clay the night before and hadn't even though about her answer before saying yes. The Club need help . . . and she was in the position to do so. So by God, she was going to help.

Apparently, one of their warehouses was up in smoke . . . . which was nothing new with the constant wars between the Club and the Nords and Mayans. But the oddity that they couldn't control-even with Unsler and Trammel on the payroll- was the body of one dead hooker. Who happened to have been there with Tig when everything went to shit. They hadn't been able to locate the body before Hale had shown up . . . telling Unsler he was going to oversee the investigation personally, and had the cadaver dogs on the scene within the hour.

Opie had, in his haste to clear out when Clay had given the order, sliced himself pretty well on a piece of debris. But since they weren't supposed to be there-supposed to be involved at all since the warehouse was through a ghost company with no paper ties to the MC- then it was an issue. And when the girl's body showed up . . . all hell had broken loose.

Which is how she ended up with four of the Sons of Anarchy in her morgue there in Charming, waiting impatiently while she did what she had to. Thankfully for all of them, one of the Mayans that had torched the warehouse was caught in the blast and pretty fucked up . . . so making it look the blood she'd already unofficially tagged as Opie's came from him wasn't a big deal. It was really just some creative testing and documentation . . . as well writing down the speculation for which wound supplied the blood. But the other . . .

She sighed, turning to glance at the current Sgt at Arms for the Club . . . and knew without a doubt that the man was unhinged. The second he'd come into the morgue, Clay had to literally clap him on the back to get him to shut up about something or another. If she'd heard right, it was related to necrophilia . . . and she was so sure she didn't want to know.

But despite the obvious quirks the man was still . . . dangerously attractive. She sighed, looking back down at the syringe in Opie's vein. That should be enough. She disengaged the vacuum seal on the sample tube, holding pressure with one hand while she laid the blood sample on the empty stainless autopsy table beside her work station. A quick flick of her wrist and the tourniquet was off and beside the tube while she quickly bandaged her friend's arm. She looked up. Smiling warmly at him behind the shield her long golden curls made. Opie smiled back, rubbing his arm before standing up and patting her shoulder.

"Thanks Ripley. This means a lot . . . nice suit by the way . . ."

She waved him away, looking down at her chocolate men's styled woolen tweed trousers and smoothing the seam almost subconsciously. She shifted, readjusting the matching vest over the ruffle collared blue and white striped dress shirt as she rolled her eyes at him as he smirked.

"Yeah well we can't all go to work in jeans and cuts now can we, Ope?

He chuckled, turning to see Clay and Tig coming over . . . both aware of the distance Clay had between them and the two corpses on the tables. Ripley sighed, shaking her head before looking back to Opie. She was doing this for the Club . . . and for him . . . but helping out the gorgeous weirdo that was being pushed into the seat in front of her wasn't a particularly bad thing. Tig hadn't really spoken to her much since she'd moved to Charming . . . and other than Jax warning her to steer clear of the man and the Nomad Happy . . . she hadn't really had any opportunity to get to know him. He'd been up in Indian Hills until a few weeks ago anyway . . .

She knew he'd patched in, transferring from a sister Chapter near Tacoma and had moved up pretty quickly. She kind of wanted to get to k now him, if for no other reason than he held her father's rank . . . but he was pretty clear in keeping her at arms length. Something Bobby had pointed out was pretty rare considering his love of all things female.

She sighed, again, pulling her glasses out of her curls and putting them on to type into the computer and machines what they would do with these samples. She felt the man's eyes on her but when she glanced over he was staring at the unopened needle in her lap. She raised a brow. Seriously this man wasn't afraid of needles . . . not with all f the ink she could see on him. She shifted, drawing his eyes up to hers . . . and making her feel very much like an outsider.

Tig's light blue eyes were almost eerie . . . but Ripley wasn't above admitting she thought they were gorgeous. Even when they were looking coldly like they were now. She sighed, turning back to the screen and ignoring the weight of his eyes on her. She felt them move back down to the needle on her lap . . . and she almost jumped when Jax popped up behind her, looking at the computer as she typed.

"What're you doing, Rip? We're trying to keep them out of the system not put them back in it . . ."

Ripley rolled her eyes, typing in the last command before hitting the run button.

"I had a professor who showed me how to program these databases . . . and all of the glitches that can go into them. This particular program is going to scan the genetic material in the blood sample from our dearly depart Mayan here and now, instead of kicking it out it's going to run it as a match."

Tig and Jax shared a look as Clay whistled. Opie came to stand behind Clay, looking over his shoulder at Ripley.

"How in the hell is that possible? Aren't these things all networked in together or something?"

Ripley nodded, turning to assemble the next syringe and tube for Tig's sample. She never looked back up as she opened the sani-seal, keeping her eyes focused on her work as she flicked the bottom of the tube a few time before pushing the tip into the vacuum seal.

"They are . . . but only when they have to scan large databases. Somethimes these things go down for weeks at a time without anyone knowing because they don't need the access. I unhooked the network connection and I'll reset it after we're done. The rest is all basic programming. Computers are only as smart as their programmed to be. If I program this thing to recognize water as blood then it has to . . . but someone catches on to shit like that. Stuff like this though. I'll know what blood is Opie's by crossmatching . . . and Tig's blood is going to be a default. I've already taken samples from the Mayan to cross match . . . and pretty much suctioned the girl's stomach. No one outside of this room will know that she was ever with a Son. They'll test it again at the State-if Hale starts to get suspicious-but it'll come up Mayan every time."

Opie and Jax nodded while Clay patted Tig's shoulder. Tig however still looked like he was in the electric chair.

"How? And why do you keep doing that? You didn't do it for Opie's . . ."

Ripley shrugged, choosing to stay professional rather than get offended at his tone. It was probably just nerves.

"Because the Mayan sample is all that's left. Its not uncommon for genetic samples to be so badly degraded after exposure to extreme heat that only small samples are kept. Crime labs don't keep the whole corpse. They take tissue and fluid samples and-after everything possible is done with the autopsy and examinations-release the body to the family or State. No one ever second guesses . . . no need. And I'm making sure the chemical in the wax is active. The wax at the bottom helps separate the blood and plasma. Makes it easier to type and work with. It didn't take as long to get Opie's sample so . . . I have to be sure. Unless you want to get stuck twice . . ."

Tig snorted, rolling up his sleeve and thrusting his arm out to her.

"Just get this done . . .

* * *

Later that night, as she finished hanging the last piece of art in her bedroom, Chaosia found herself looking at the pale blue ink of the painting and wondering what it would be like to have a man like Tig as a lover. He had this intensity about him that was . . . so enticing. But she could tell with the way he treated her that it was never gonna happen. Ever. But . . . it was still nice to ponder.

She sighed, shrugging out of her clothes and heading towards her shower. The man had barely looked at her today . . . and when she'd gone by the Clubhouse before coming home he'd had three Croweaters draped across him, each kissing and nipping at him while he practically preened for them. Chibs and Happy had spared her a nod before going over to join him, though each grabbed a new girl and left Tig with his three. She'd shaken her head and gone into Church, sitting at the huge redwood table and telling him that everything was taken care of . . . she'd even brought him a spare copy of the reports and her final 'findings'. He'd nodded, thanking her again before asking if she wanted to stay and get a drink. She'd declined, feigning a headache and had made her way to her car.

She'd felt eyes on her as she'd crawled into the Chevelle but shrugged it off. This was Charming and she was at the SOA Clubhouse. Someone was bound to be watching, be it from the shadows or the windows . . .

She sighed, deciding to soak her weariness away in a tub rather than try and wash them down the drain. As she filled the massive tub, she went to her vanity and began scrubbing off her make-up, slowly removing what her father had always called warpaint. She smirked . . . then let it fall from her lips as she looked at her clean face in the glass. Her eyes seemed lighter against the tan of her skin that her foundation hid . . . but it was a price to pay for covering up the splay of freckles that dusted over her nose and cheeks. Piney had been right all of those weeks ago when he'd told her she looked like her mother . . . but even know she knew that type of beauty (and she really didn't think she would ever come close to her mother's) didn't belong in the world she'd brought herself back to. She knew her high cheekbones and plump lips with her light eyes and golden hair would have someone like David Hale tripping over himself.

But that wasn't what she'd wanted. Even her longtime lover in Long Beach wasn't exactly what she'd wanted . . . she wanted what her mother had. What Gemma had. A man who, while severe to the outside world and as rough and tumble as they came, loved her for who and what she was . . . and didn't want her to change. While her ex had definitely fit the first part he'd never quite gotten the second. He loved her-had even asked her to stay and marry him-but he wanted her to be something she wasn't . . . Which had helped in her decision to take the Charming position.

She sighed, the little voice in the back of her head saying-as she sank into the hot bubbles- that Tig probably wouldn't fit that bill either . . . but she would love to find out if he was severe between the sheets as he was out of them. She knew it was crazy-to even wonder about the man like that-but she couldn't help it . . . It was the family curse. To want what you couldn't have. And Tig Trager was definitely on that list . . . for **_her_** anyway.

* * *

Tig had untangled himself from the Croweaters long enough to watch the girl leave Church and go make sure she got to her car okay. He had to admit, to himself now that he was far beyond stoned and drunk, that the girl was fine. She'd shed the work shirt, leaving a lacey tank top on beneath the vest that matched her trousers . . . and her hair was out of its knot and hanging loosely around her face and shoulders as she glanced around the lot once. He'd smirked, taking a swig of his beer. The little girl wasn't as dumb as she looked . . . she knew someone was watching her. And for a second he thought he'd been caught when her eyes landed on his hiding spot. But she'd moved on, getting in and cranking the beast of a car she drove. He'd give the cold bitch one thing: she was hot for what she was . . . and she drove a sweet ass car.

He'd watched her pull to the gate and stop, looking both ways like a good little girl. He'd almost chuckled until he heard her shift and rev the engine, looking for her gear before pealing out of the lot in a cloud of smoke and gravel. He blinked, stunned. Damn . . . maybe the little girl wasn't going to be as boring as he thought. He'd already heard Happy and Juice talking before, lamenting the loss of the opportunity to fuck her senseless while Chibs had agreed. The prospect had surprised them all, saying she was too sweet to hurt like that before he'd been hassled into silence before Opie and Jax had come in and put an end to all of it.

Tig sighed shaking his head and going back inside to his three little Croweaters. For some reason, he felt like paying special attention to the bosomy blonde that had been settled in his lap all night . . . oh well, probably just wanted something different.


End file.
